"Now, really, Mr. Lee," he protested, "I don't think you are quite fair to me in this. As I understand it, your round-up is just beginning, and I am sure I could be of some service—for a few days, at least."
The old man glanced at his fancy new outfit, and thought he saw another way out.
"Can you ride?" he inquired, asking that first fatal question before which so many punchers go down.
"Yes, sir," answered Bowles politely.
"You mean you can ride a gentle horse," corrected Lee. "I've got some pretty wild ones in my bunch, and of course a new hand couldn't expect to get the best. Can you rope?"
"No, I mean any horse," retorted Bowles, avoiding the subject of roping. "Any horse you have."
"Hmm!" observed Mr. Lee, laying down his pipe and regarding his man with interest. "Did you ever ride any bad horses?"
"Yes, sir," lied Bowles; "several of them."
"And you think you can ride any horse I've got, eh?" mused Lee. "Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Bowles," he continued, speaking very deliberately; "I've got a horse in my remuda that killed a man last fall—if you'll ride him I'll take you on for a puncher."
"Very well, sir," responded Bowles. "And thank you very much. It's very kind of you, I'm sure."